Fairytale of New York
by Darcy Todd
Summary: Joe and Polly's relationship seems to be reaching its end 10 years after the events of the movie.


**Fairytale of New York**

**Author: Darcy**

**Pairing: Joe/Polly**

**1949**

Ten years. For ten years they'd been carrying on this ridiculous charade of a relationship. Joe sighed softly as he thought about it. He looked around. The office was a mess, with mildew on the walls and paint peeling off the door. There just wasn't enough money or work coming the Legion's way these days to keep the whole place in decent repair, though they could still out-perform the RAF and USAF in the event of a crisis.

The brightly coloured paper chains across the ceiling were a joke. The sheer sight of them irritated Joe, who picked up the near-empty Milk of Magnesia bottle and flung it at one of them. The concertina-folded tissue paper snapped abruptly and the bottle crashed to the floor, spattering white chalky liquid everywhere. He laughed for the first time in ages, before a nagging guilt took him. Polly had genuinely wanted to cheer him up when she had sneaked in, uninvited, and decorated the room he was currently spending more time in than he was in the air. She'd be angry when she arrived and saw what he'd done.

Uneasily, Joe took a roll of tape from one of the drawers in his desk, and pulled the chair into the middle of the floor. He climbed onto it and reached for the broken ends of the chain. He was just in the process of biting off a bit of tape when a knock sounded at the door and Polly entered, without waiting for an answer. She looked up at him, surprised "Oh Joe, did it come down?"

He nodded "Just snapped. Must have been faulty when-"

He got on further, for she had glimpsed something on the floor. She bent down and picked up the empty Milk of Magnesia bottle, holding it up in front of her and looking again at the broken decoration "Joe, what on earth's the matter with you?"

Joe climbed down off the chair and carried it back to the other side of the desk "For god's sake Polly, it's only a load of old paper! When I want some childish paper folded thing in my office, I'll ask you, okay!"

"I was only trying to help" Polly replied, coldly "Why can't you just be normal for once, enjoy Christmas, hell knows, maybe do something nice for me once in a while."

"You've got a nerve. What have you ever done for me. Except, hang on, sticking me in a slave camp for six months. Yeah, that was real fun, Polly, maybe you could do it again, for christmas. It would really make my year" He watched the predictable anger mount inside her.

"I just... don't believe this, Joe. That was what,10 years ago? 11 maybe or even 12. All the years we've been together, all the things that have happened since then, and that's the thing you remember most about our relationship? Surely there must be something more than that"

They stood there in silence, looking at each other.

There had to be more than that, Joe knew it very well. Otherwise they would have simply parted ways after escaping from Totenkopf's rocket ship, and they would not be standing here right now, squabbling over a broken christmas decoration. He wasn't that stupid. Or was he?

Polly looked at the dark circles under his eyes and softened briefly "Look, it's christmas eve, Joe, why don't we just go back to my apartment now. There can't really be any more work waiting now"

He nodded, and started shuffling the papers on his desk into the filing cabinet. Christmas could pass by unnoticed for all he cared, and the thought of spending the next day with Polly didn't appeal. He slowly followed her out to her car, dreaming of a time long ago.

**1937**

Joe grabbed himself a beer and sat down with other American Volunteer pilots as dusk fell over Nanjing. They should all, by rights, have been tired, but an exhausting eleven hours of combat against the Japanese had left them buzzing. The idea of being asleep, when the city lights glittered and drink waited to be consumed, made Joe laugh out loud. Then he stopped laughing, and stared.

There was a girl in the bar. Not one of the local whores who so often found their trade in these type of places, but a white girl, looking as thought she had stepped straight off 6th Avenue on the way to the office on Monday morning. Her hair was immaculate, like a blonde waterfall. A hat was tipped slightly over one eye in a roguish manner, she was dressed in a light linen suit, much too fashionable for the surroundings, and on her feet were polished shoes with actual high, narrow heels. She was watching the pilots with interest, and though every one of them was staring intently at her, it was Joe whom she singled out to sit beside.

"Polly Perkins, reporter" she said with a smile, offering him her hand.

He shook it dazedly. It made sense now, at least in part. "Joseph H. Sullivan" he replied "American Volunteer Group"

"You're not American, though, are you?" She said curiously, pulling out a notebook and pen from the leather bag that was strapped round her shoulder.

He shook his head "No, I'm from London originally. Hey-" he waggled his finger at the notebook "What are you doing?"

"May I ask you some questions?" she asked in the mocking, faux Southern accent which would one day infuriate him whenever she used it. But this time it just made him smile, and he nodded. He talked to her about the Flying Legion and their work, about the things he had seen in Nanjing and about the enemy they were facing. The night drew on.

Finally, she snapped the notebook shut and slid it back into her bag "Thanks Joe" she said, pressing closer to him (their chairs had somehow moved nearer and nearer to each other during the interview until their legs grappled for places on the floor)

He smiled "No problem. Hey, where are you staying?"

"The Kiang Wu, room eighteen" she whispered, suddenly appearing suspicious of the other people in the room, none of whom were paying attention.

Joe nodded "Right, I'll remember that, if anything big happens I'll come and talk to you. If I'm not in too many pieces that is" He drained the last of his current drink.

"It's a shame I can't get a photo of you," Polly said apologetically, "or anything else for that matter. My camera was damaged on the way over and I've been going crazy without it. There's so much here I want to document! But it doesn't matter really, they'll print the story without pictures. Doesn't feel right, though."

Joe insisted on walking her back to the hotel, and he staggered back into quarters sometime after midnight. As his felllow pilots found the adrenaline that had kept them going for so long fading away, and fell deeply asleep, he lay awake, thinking about the girl. He was captivated by her blasé attitude towards the danger that surrounded her, the only western woman he had seen here outside of the nurses whom he occasionally spotted on their way in and out of the hospital tent. Her choice of questions to him had shown a keen interest and understanding of current events, and yet she seemed to regard her own part in it as a game. Even her choice of clothing differed only from appropriate New York attire in the patch pockets and belt on her suit jacket, like a Saturday afternoon serial pastiche of a safari shirt. He drifted in and out of sleep as fingers of light began to creep across the sky, wondering when he could see her again.

It was a couple of days before he was able to get into the wealthier part of the city. This particular area, he had passed through a few days ago without a second thought. Now, he made his way straight to a shop selling photographic equipment. Evidently, he wasn't quite in time, for the shopkeeper had removed the open sign from inside the door and was in the process of turning it over when Joe hammered on the glass.

The man pointed to the sign in his hand, now turned to read "closed" in English and Chinese, but Joe kept on mouthing pleas at the man until, muttering in annoyance, he let him in.

"Thank you so much," Joe panted "What's a good camera to get? I mean a really good one that a reporter might use"

The shopkeeper brightened instantly, and lead Joe to a camera that sat on the counter in a glass case. "Very latest model, used by press photographers" he said, and reeled off a list of names that meant nothing to Joe.

He felt the money in his pocket, looked at the price tag, sighed, thought for a moment, and then drew out a handful of notes.

"And a film – two" he added on second thoughts, remembering that he didn't know whether her films had been damaged along with her old camera.

A few minutes later he was running over to Polly's hotel. She came downstairs and met him in the hallway. "Joe, how are you?"

"I got this for you" he said, handing her the camera. She examined it for a moment in disbelief, then looked back at Joe, eyes shining. "Joe I...."

Then she had flung herself at him and kissed loudly on the lips.

Looking back, it had flared up fast and burned out just as fast. Being in a strange country, with unfamiliar, vivid sights and smells, a world being broken by the flames and wreckage of war, had sent his emotions into overdrive and given the new relationship a heat that it could not sustain. He had Polly saw a lot of each other, but Joe soon began to long for things she couldn't give him. This fact did not pass Polly by, and, as he soon discovered, she was not happy when things did not go her way.

Then Franky Cook had come on the scene. Joe had known her way back, and they had been good, if distant, friends. Suddenly, Franky epitomised everything he wanted. His undoubted first love was his Flying Legion, hers the mobile airstrip she captained, and the all-female amphibious squadron of which she took command. She shared with him the love of machines and shared with him the pressure of the battle. Her company helped him relax, while Polly made him edgy.

He saw no need to end the relationship though, it was fun enough. Just not what he needed when he was trying to fight a war. Franky was more like a buddy as well as a lover, someone who understood without words the pressue he was under. All woman she may have been, but she never gave him the worrying feeling Polly did, that she shouldn't really be there.

"Joe" Polly said to him one evening in her hotel room "You're different, what's the matter?"

"The matter? Try the fact that there's a war on!" he answered, tiredly.

But she was no going to take no for an answer "I've started to wonder if there was another woman"

He felt a stab of annoyance at the idea that she'd considered their relationship anything more than casual, and yet somehow he found it hard to disillusion her "Polly, don't be stupid. Of course there's nobody else." And he had pulled her over and kissed her. But she never stopped being suspicious and he never told her the truth, it didn't seem worth getting into a huge fight about.

Then he'd gone down in Manchurian territory, thanks to a cut fuel line, and he had a pretty good idea who was responsible. For 6 months he had been incarcerated in a slave camp there, and it did not escape his attention that the press had toned down the horrors in their descriptions of such places.

Later, installed in a convalecent hospital back in the US, he had been told that a Polly Perkins wanted to see him. He refused to have anything to do with her. Whenever he tried to think of the good times before his affair, an imagined image of her slicing through his fuel line flashed into his mind, getting in the way.

**1949**

Joe looked moodily out of the windscreen, at the snow flakes falling amongst the skyscrapers before turning into grey slush on the already hazardous roads. He turned back to Polly, her mind more focussed on getting home safely than on cut fuel lines. He remembered the second time he had thought he was about to die, the inside of the rocket ship moments from destruction. He always took Polly's presence there for granted, blamed her for nearly destroying his greatest moment. But he had never really considered what it might have meant to him to die up there alone.

They sat in a queue for several minutes. Polly ground her teeth in frustration as she stared out at the row of blurred tail lights in front of her. Other lights, of many different colours, twinkled on the surrounding buildings and in windows. Suddenly she was infuriated, as Joe had been by the paper chains. She pushed her hand down on the horn and held it there until she came to her senses.

"Polly," Joe said "What was that for? Nobody's going to go any quicker just because you don't want to be stuck in the car..."

He trailed off whatever he may have been going to say as she turned and caught his eye. The next moment the traffic was moving again, and Polly regretted her moment of temper, wondering where it had come from. There shouldn't be any mad rush home on Christmas eve when there was no work the next day. Looking at Joe's exhuasted face made her sad.

And yet it also made her angry, even now when he was looking at her more softly than he had done in a long time. She had no idea why it was, with vulnerability oozing from every core of him, that she still held the desire to hurt him, twist him around her finger until he submitted.

It was grudgingly that Polly admitted to herself that Joe broken wouldn't be much fun at all. Should that happen, he would give himself to somebody else, they would forever be the hero, she always the villain. It was better that he had this habit of popping up again like a jack in the box, as infuriating as ever.

**1939**

The six months during which Joe had been in the camp had passed slowly for Polly, until she heard that Joe was alive and back in the US. She had never intendedfo Joe to end up quite where he had, and the realisation of how bitter her revenge had been shocked her. And yet she was still angry with him for his dishonesty. When her attempts to make peace had met with only a refusal to have any contact with her, she threw herself back into her career.

Teaming up with Joe to go after Totenkopf, she had been unprepared for how heavily she fell for him again. That first moment in his office still tore at her heart. believing himself to be alone, he had exposed his vulnerability fully, pouring out a shot of the magnesia with shaking hands. Was this what she had done to him. That startled expression when she had made her presence known didn't help matters either. Perching on the desk seductively, Polly had tried to sound completely unconcerned "How you been Joe, miss me?"

She hoped he couldn't hear the cracks.

However, more than a dozen times over the next day or so, he reminded her exactly why she had gone at his fuel line in the first place. As arrogant as ever, he tried to put himself in control after promising they'd be in it together. Polly found herself trying endlessly to score one over him and finding all her attempts going embarrassingly wrong. Her lack of understanding of machinery – knowing enough about planes to sever a fuel line evidently wasn't enough – and pseudo military protocol was a constant embarrassment.

And then they had had to land on Franky Cook's mobile airstrip.

"What is that?" Was the first thing the beautiful captain said on seeing her, and instantly she felt threatened, uneasy.

Joe introduced the two women to each other.

"Oh yes, Polly Perkins, I've heard so much about you!" Franky said, with a sort of oily politeness, as she shook Polly's hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the competition"

Polly stiffened with anger. So he had been lying to her all along.

"Been a long time since Nanjing hasn't it, Joseph" Franky was saying.

Franky lead them inside the ship as a team of mechanics attended to the Warhawk. Barking orders to the young men and women in uniform, she led them into a small room which Polly judged to be her working cabin. She found herself pushed aside as the other two talked in low voices, as if she wasn't there. They talked about Dex and about their work, with veiled references to their time in Nanjing. Now and again she tried to join in, but was pretty much ignored in the general hustle and bustle. She felt close to tears, thought she would never show it.

Later, as the strapped themselves back into the Warhawk on the way to Totenkopf's island, she tried to quiz Joe about it, but, frustratingly, he pretended not to have heard. She was glad she hadn't told him the truth about his plane when he had asked her.

"Keep your nose up, Joseph, you always were bad at the short take off" Franky said, smiling at Joe through the window of her adjacent plane. Once again Polly stiffened, both admiring and hating this woman who was such a complete equal to Joe.

"I thought your take off was just fine" she said, and immediately felt like kicking herself. All she had done was show once more that she didn't have a clue about planes. Slipping into the role of the submissive female by buttering up his ego in order to counteract the threat she felt from Franky had seemed like a good idea, but it had probably just made her drop even lower in their estimation.

And then Franky had been the one who was willing to risk her life for Joe, for despite her supreme confidence that she could eject in time, the exercise was risky. It was obvious that she could give him everything that Polly couldn't.

All through the jungle, despite the danger they faced, she could not get it out of her mind. Even after she had broken down in tears infront of Joe, all but confessed she still loved him. Even after they both confessed their actions in Nanjing. When Dex appeared just in time on the hovercraft to save them, it began to burn more than ever. He could always rely on his comrades to help him in his hour of need. All she had managed to do was hurt him. The thought preoccupied her as the countdown started and the truth about Totenkopf's deadly plan was revealed. It was only a Statement from Dex to Joe which brought her to her senses.

"Once on board the rocket, there can be no escape" Dex said, his voice faltering.

Polly froze. Then she swallowed, and said bravely "I'm coming with you!"

Joe turned to her "No Polly, not this time"

"I won't let you go alone!" she flung her arms around his neck. It had become obvious what she could do for him, to make up for landing him in the slave camp.

He seemed to soften as their eyes met, and she saw only too well the crippling fear that hid below his reserve. She pressed herself closer to him, determined that he would not die alone.

"I hope one day you can forgive me" he whispered as their eyes met.

"Don't worry" she was about to whisper to him "I have already" But then his fist smacked heavily into her head and she knew no more.

Polly came round to find herself lying in corner of the hovercraft. It took her a moment to remember what had happened, but as it came back to her she began to seethe with anger. He hadn't been talking about cheating on her after all. His pride just wouldn't let someone else share the glory of dying with him. It reminded her of Editor Paley's constant attempts to keep her off the top stories and let a man cover them instead. She wanted to spit.

Peering round, she saw Dex and the scientists engaged in some kind of discussion. They were about to pass one of the bridges into the ship. Hovering as close to the edge as she could, she lightly stepped onto it and pulled herself over the railings. She couldn't see Joe anywhere so she made her way towards the rocket.

A female figure was standing a short distance away, looking down at something. Polly recognised her as the mysterious woman who had been in Dr Jennings' office. Then she realised, to her horror, that someone was clinging under the bridge. She looked around desperately for something she could use as a weapon. She grabbed a piece of piping and, running up. smashed it as hard across the back of the assassin's head as she could. As the woman fell forward with an unnatural clang that betrayed her robot origins, Joe dazedly pulled himself up and gazed at Polly in relief "What took you so long?"

That was it. No thank you, no apology for the underhand way he had mown her down earlier, just an infuriating "What took you so long?" Before she knew what she was doing, Polly swung her fist and knocked him to the ground.

**1949**

They reached Polly's apartment and staggered through the door, barely looking at each other.

She flipped on the light switch. The whole place was covered in the same tissue and crepe paper decorations that she had stuck all over Joe's office, and by the window stood a little tree, which he himself had cut down from a corner of the base. She drew the curtains and came back to Joe, rubbing his shoulders

"Hey, relax! It's christmas .. Jesus, Joe, you're so tense! Whatever's the matter?"

"You wouldn't understand" he answered dully

She rolled her eyes, tiredly "Oh, worrying about airplanes again?"

"That and the rest of the Legion. That's what I meant when I said you wouldn't understand. You've never cared about anything except yourself-"

"You can talk" Polly interrupted "You seem to think that just because you're some war hero with your own private air force you can do whatever you like and don't have to worry if you hurt other people. You think you're so pure because you fought against a couple of super-villains? You're just as goddamn bad as everybody else. You think you can screw around with them and they won't think any the less of you and they'll just come crawling back. I've had it now"

She made her way towards the door, completely ignoring the fact that they were inside her own apartment. Joe sighed. It certainly wasn't Milk of Magnesia she was taking shots of during her bad times.

She stopped as she heard a noise, like a choking sound of some kind. Joe was slumped in an armchair, his head in his hands. He looked up at her, a strained look on his face as if he was fighting against tears. "Polly, is ... is that what you think of me?"

It stunned him to hear from her lips an accusation of her own callous attitude towards him and his feelings. For a moment he did not know what else to say as he digested the idea.

"I... I never wanted to hurt you"

Polly's voice had changed, and he saw to his surprise that she was fighting back the tears herself. "That's a lie, Joe, you know we both tried to hurt each other lots of times"

"No I ... You're the only one who ever actually hurt me"

She sighed "I only did that because I love you, I mean it!"

Joe leapt up "And that somehow makes it alright?" he spat.

"No, but...." Polly trailed off. She made her way over to the other side of the room, where Joe was, and sat in a chair beside the one he had occupied "If I hadn't cared about you I wouldn't have given a damn what you were doing. I know I should have only wanted what was best for you but really nobody does that. It's a fairytale. In real life people love each other for selfish reasons"

There was silence between them. Joe felt so angry he thought he might explode, but he knew it was true. He himself had spent a lot of time in the company of people who bowed down to his hero status and massaged his ego.

"I'm sorry"

Joe stared at her "What?"

"I'm sorry I cut your fuel line"

One look at Polly's face told him it was true.

He stepped forward, arms open, and as she fell into them he finally felt the floodgates open and a few tears fall from his eyes into her blonde hair.

"It's alright now" he whispered "There's nothing you can do to change it. I meant it when I said I never meant to hurt you. I just ... didn't know what'd got into you sometimes."

He looked into the wet blue eyes, and as their lips met, he wondered what he'd do without her around to squabble with.

**End**


End file.
